


Following the Roots That Lead Home

by thisis1coolusername



Series: Give me your heart, O Warden [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Gen, avira’s brooding time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:49:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28275606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisis1coolusername/pseuds/thisis1coolusername
Summary: A little boy runs into your leg and latches on. Kids are always overly familiar, and Maker forbid that they see your staff and piece two and two together that you’re a mage. It's happened a fair bit, and the parents are always apologetic when it happens but come to find out, you don't really mind.The thing is, however, this particular kid is calling you "mommy".A chance meeting takes Avira down a path of reminiscence and heartache. (But all struggle is worth it in the end.)
Relationships: Alistair/Female Surana (Dragon Age), Alistair/Female Warden (Dragon Age)
Series: Give me your heart, O Warden [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1870264
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	Following the Roots That Lead Home

**Author's Note:**

> I tweaked some details for the plague at the alienage at Denerim for optimum angst, eheheheh. Anyway sorry for the long delays in between these shorts. No excuses but apologies.

A little boy runs into your leg and latches on. Kids are always overly familiar, and Maker forbid that they see your staff and piece two and two together that you’re a mage. It's happened a fair bit, and the parents are always apologetic (and frightened but you pretend not to notice) when it happens but come to find out, you don't really mind. The parents look harrowed enough and a blight looming over their heads never helped matters so you entertain the little things for a bit before going about your business.

The thing is, however, this particular kid is calling you "mommy".

It's impossible, of course: you've never actually did the thing that it takes to conceive a child, only the steps leading up to it, but when the little thing looks up at you with wide eyes that remind you of your father, you freeze.

Before you were taken, people always said that you looked like your mother. You and your parents would look at the two little lumps of elves and wonder who your little twin brothers would take after. You feel your throat constrict at the memory. They must be almost ten now. You look down at the child. Did they...?

The little boy blinks in confusion as he realizes that maybe that the person he's latching onto isn't his mother, nose scrunching in a way that Alistair teases you about, and gives hurried apologises before running off in a city that is way too big for a child to be alone in.

You reach out, but the words get stuck in your throat. Your little brother disappears.

  


...

  


You have a pretty good poker face, but your companions seem to have grown a second sense for your moods.

"I must say, that stoic face of yours has grown even more chilly" Morrigan remarks off handily as she materializes from a swarm of bees.

You grunt, tugging at your sword that has found a new home in the skull of a bandit and seemed loathed to go home.  
A beat passes without you replying and she tsks. 

“And tis seems you’ve gained the ability of conveying absolutely nothing with brutish grunts from the resident qunari ,” Morrigan continued, crossing her arms and raising a brow. “An utter shame. It’ll do you well to speak when spoken to. What has gotten into you?”

You inwardly sigh. Maker above, having friends is good and all until they want to talk about feelings and you’d rather just swallow a hairball. 

Morrigan is waiting for a response from you, but you honestly can’t find it in you to give some bullshit excuse to give. So you sigh, outwardly this time, and stare at the dead man’s face. He stares back until his eyes began to bulge and steam hisses from his mouth. Morrigan makes an alarmed sound.

“Avira, what-“

The bandits head erupts in blue flame, burning hot and fierce for several moments. Ignoring the gazes that it drew, you put it out and pull out your now free sword. You hold the red blade aloft in front of yourself and turn away from Morrigan. 

“Sorry, not in the mood to talk,” was all you offered before you tug at the Veil and it tugs you back, making you disappear from the area. 

Already feeling guilt about brushing Morrigan off, you land a ways away and drop the sword beside you, being sure to freeze the grass enough that it wouldn’t set on fire. Don’t want a forest fire to interrupt your “brooding time”, as the others would put it. 

You don’t brood, you think as you bury your head in your knees. You’re just... kind of sad a lot of the time. So you turn that into anger and turn that into motivation. But being sad that you’re being hounded by demons and darkspawn is different than being sad that your family has moved on. It’s a stupid thing to even be upset about. You yourself had to force the memory of them away to even make it in the Circle.

“Fucking hell,” you groan as you sit and is met with the sight of Zevran squaring before you.

“FUCKING HELL,” you repeat as you try not to kill your friend with your magic. 

“Hmm,” the assassin hums, unperturbed by the new tear in the shoulder of his shirt where a spear of ice barely missed him, “My friend, you must pay more attention. I could’ve killed you several times over! What a terrible fate to befall the woman who bested me in combat.” 

He laughs as if you almost didn’t kill him then and there. Actually, you’re still thinking about it for frightening you. You glower at him as you stand up. He, however, continues to squat, looking up with a friendly smile but you saw the glint of calculation in his eyes. No. Not Zevran wanting to talk about feelings too. 

“I saw that you and M-“

“Stop staring at my breasts,” you blurt. 

“I- I wasn’t?” Zevran says, taken aback by the accusation. His eyes leaves yours for a moment before quickly returning, “Okay, I did then, but only because you brought it up!” He hurriedly explains. 

You know he wasn’t staring in the first place but damn it Zevran, not now. 

You’re tired from fighting and doing it twice, but you reach for the Veil again-

“Please tell us what is troubling you, my friend.”

You make the mistake of looking over to him and seeing the earnest expression on his face. You feel yourself falter. The air settles around you and you don’t leave. 

“Talking about what’s on your mind doesn’t have to be with me, necessarily” the assassin begins standing to tread to you slowly as not to spook you, “But, having a friendly ear to listen would always help.”

There’s nothing to talk about, you almost say, but in that moment you can’t help but to realize that there’s so much you wanted to say. Not to Zevran and not for the reasons he was most likely thinking, but to your parents. Your family. 

“I trust you Zevran, despite the odds,” you say with a small smile that felt more like a grimace, “It’s- I just...”

You work your mouth open and close for a few moments, trying to find a way to say it. Zevran approaches you and sits down beside you, patting the the ground for you to do the same. After a pause, you do. 

“Here,” he says, holding out a water skin. You sniff it out of habit, ignoring Zevran’s light chuckle. It’s not your fault he likes to spike his drinks with doses of poison on the occasion. You’re alive so it’s not fatal, but fuck, it made you wish you could join the Maker’s side. 

You sip. Cool and refreshing water hits your tongue. It makes you think of when you was a child, wanting to help your mother draw water from the well but being too little. It tasted the freshest beyond the taint of the city. 

Your family didn’t always live in Denerim. You have hazy memories of living playing in mud with the neighboring kids (always when their parents weren’t around, for reasons that you didn’t realize until now). You would run through the undergrowth rummaging through it to collect weeds and flowers to give to your mother. Father would get his gift whenever he would return from his trips. One day, something happened to one of the families. You think.  
You were too young to get the details, but all you know is that the kids you would play with just... disappeared. You suddenly found yourself in the alienage in a city that felt endlessly big. That city felt unnatural to you, so cold and unfeeling compared to how nature sang and whispered to you. You wanted nothing more than to leave back then. You got your wish. 

You take another sip suddenly wishing for something stronger, a different kind of poison. You wordlessly lean against Zevran’s shoulder, and he rests his hand over yours. You grip it tightly. 

  


...

  


You put Denerim from your mind for the time being. Several weeks in fact until Alistair brings up family. His sister specifically. 

“It’s not that much of a big deal considering that we’re fighting against, you know, dark spawn, colossal dragons, and the potential end of the world,” he babbles, “But if we’re on the way...”

You rest a hand on his shoulder.

“Let’s go,” you say simply, voice not belaying any of the anxiety that’s gripped your chest. 

“Hey, are you sure?” Alistair asks, not even going for good cheer at the notion of meeting his sister. “You seem like - ahaha! - like that time when Oghren burped in your mouth while you were yawning.”

You pause to scrunch your face up at the memory. That damned dwarf did it on purpose. 

“Okay not so much that,” he amends with another laugh, “But, uh...”

He walks around in front of you, drawing close to you with his hands on your hips. “Are you okay?” He asks lowly, eyes peeking down at you. “You don’t seem yourself?”

Ah, seems like you’re as slick as sandpaper around your party these days. 

You breathe, hold, and exhale. “Denerim... isn’t my favorite place to be,” you hedge. “It feels unnatural to me, but that doesn’t change anything.” You rush to finish, seeing the crestfallen expression hiding in his eyes. “I want you to see your sister. Your family.”

At least he’s brave enough to face her. 

Alistair stares down at you for a few more moments, most likely trying to decipher your mood (you hate that but being honest hurts too much right now) before sighing and nodding. 

“We won’t have to stay long,” he promises. “I just want to see her while I have the chance.”

You reach and squeeze his hand. “I know. You don’t have to explain it at all.”

  


...

  


The wares in front of you are displayed to blind eyes as your thoughts rush around you in a frenzied haze. You want to rip Alistair’s damned sister’s throat out with your bare teeth. Torch the remains and spit in the mouths of her five bastards. You dare not voice your ire in the face of Alistair’s woe, however. He doesn’t deserve that. He doesn’t deserve what Goldanna said to him. The man wasn’t at fault for the circumstances of his birth. 

You frown and pick up an item. A dagger that is more decorative than useful gleamed at you with a mirror polish. Despite your anger, however, you can’t fault the feelings that the woman felt. Motherless and given hush money that didn’t fix anything- that’ll make you bitter too. But to push away your blood? 

You blink and find yourself looking towards the alienage. Isn’t that what you’re doing in a way? Your family doesn’t know you’re here and you continue to withhold that fact from them. Unfair. They haven’t seen you in years. Your own little brother doesn’t know you from any other stranger on the street. You want to see them desperately. But. 

Wouldn’t it be just cruel to meet again only for you to die right after? Death isn’t promised but neither is survival. You couldn’t stand the thought of hurting them again. 

Little do you know, you are being watched. 

“By the Maker, she is brooding,” Leliana remarks from her hiding spot beside a jewelry stand. 

“I can almost make out a miasma of angst emanating from her,” Morrigan agrees, not hiding and therefore blowing Leliana’s cover. “Tis impressive.”

“My first guess would be that she’s upset for Alistair in regards to his, ahem, botched family reunion,” Leliana says, now wearing a beautiful bejeweled necklace. “But she’s been on edge since longer than that hasn’t she?”

“She has,” Morrigan confirms. “Avira holds the notion that she can simply not acknowledge her ill feelings without showing anything outwardly.”

The witch scoffs. “I found myself burdened with picking cooked human flesh from my garments thanks to her.”

Leliana hums, turning a ring around her finger that wasn’t there before as she watched Avira stare sightlessly at the dagger she was holding. People are beginning to avoid the stand altogether but the vendor seems too imitated to say anything. 

“How do we get our Avira to talk about what she’s feeling?” The bard muses, before pausing as if remembering something. 

“Did she mentioned anything as to where she lived before she was taken to the Circle?” 

Morrigan looks away from Avira to Leliana, brow raised. “Her home would have been at an alienage, no? You believe her to be home sick?”

Leliana’s eyes narrow behind her feathered mask as she followed Avira’s line of sign to...

Huh. 

“I didn’t at first,” she murmurs, “But she was fine before the forward party left for Denerim the first time...”

The two women give one another considering looks. Then-

“My wares! Where did they go?”

Leliana giggles as Morrigan gives a long-suffering sigh. 

“They are far too overpriced for the owner to have such deep pockets,” the thief in question whispers, somehow still not being noticed, “His business is booming in Orlais on the backs of slaves. I cannot do much now, but I am coming for his head, Maker wiling that I live.”

With a innocent smile that didn’t belay the danger behind it, she vanishes into the air. 

“That itself would be an easier than the arduous task of get that woman to talk about her emotions,” the witch responds to empty air before she herself disappears into a flurry of bats, uncaring of the startled screams she left in her wake. 

  


...

  


“Avira.”

“...”

_“Avira.” ___

“Hm? Yes, what is it?” 

“You are distracted.” 

You blink and look up at Sten with what you hope is a relaxed expression. 

“I will admit that having the fate of this country weighs quiet heavily on my mind,” you say sardonically. 

Sten scoffs, “Even that seems like it isn’t a forethought. A majority of your time is spent wasted with your human plaything.” 

“His name is Alistair,” you say, not even bothering to dispute his statement. “And excuse me if I wish to think of more pleasant and less gloomy things on the occasion.” 

“It seems that occasion is becoming increasingly rare. Everyone is fretting over you.” 

You almost stumble at that. You crane your neck to look up at the qunari. 

“What do you mean?” You ask, fearing you already know the answer. 

“That question is best saved for yourself.” Sten replies unhelpfully. “You’re the cause of the concern after all.” 

With that he walks away from you, leaving you somewhat thrown. You look around and everyone near you looks away, trying to appear as if they weren’t listening in. 

You inhale, hold, and release. Fucking hell. 

  


... 

  


Alistair was warm underneath your hands. You saw the line of his body relax as his wounds knit itself back together leaving only his wasted blood as a reminder. As you begin to pull away, he catches your hand and presses a kiss to the back of it. You huff a laugh and feel your ears twitch up happily. 

“Thank you, my love,” he says gratefully. “I must say, you’re getting quite proficient at healing.” 

You scoff. “Only at the behest of Wynne. Although I do understand why.” 

“I’ve never seen anyone use their entire body as a shield as readily as you do, which is not a good habit,” he chastises, standing and offering a hand to you. 

“I- Yes, I know,” you say, swallowing any senseless objections. 

The two of you are back at camp, reunited with the entire party. The energy is high as well as tense- The camp was attacked the night before. No casualties, but it’s more than enough to make everyone weary. Nonetheless, when everyone is here, the spirits are raised. Well almost everyone’s. 

Alistair regards Avira. 

The campfire gives her an ethereal glow, the flickering light making her unbraided hair seem like a red halo. His gifted rose was still tucked behind her ear a beautiful contrast to her smooth, glowing brown skin. Her eyes however were heavy and haunted. 

It’s painful to see and he hates he was so caught up in himself not to notice. He looks away, across the campfire, and meets Leliana’s eyes. She tilts her head in a subtle nod. He takes a breath, holds and exhales. Nevertheless he’s here now. 

“Avira, if you would..?” 

You look up and see Alistair gesturing to the outskirts, a usual hangout for them both. You nod with a small smile and accept his offered hand, always being happy to be pulled up into his arms. 

He’s quiet for several moments when the two of you settle in. You peek at him curiously from the cradle of his arms, because Alistair doesn’t exactly do quiet, but wait patiently for him to speak. 

“How have you been?” He asks finally. 

You smirk. “I believe I’ve answered that already when we were reunited no?” 

You can see the blush quickly spreading across his cheeks. “You did an excellent job at, uh, conveying it yes.” 

You laugh and turning in his arm to press your chest against his, lips almost brushing against one another. “Do we need an encore?” 

You see his eyes drop down to your lips and begin to close your eyes as you feel him shift to you- 

“It’s not that,” he says instead. 

You blink up at him, confusion thick on your face. 

“I’ve been preoccupied so much with myself that I haven’t exactly had time to check in with you,” he tells you. 

Your eyebrows scrunch as you settle back. “But I told you that I’m-“ 

“Leli has a suspicion that your family is in Denerim.” 

You freeze in shock. 

“Ah, so that is the case, huh,” he says at your silence. Hurt flickers across his face. 

“Avira why didn’t you say anything to me while we were there? Or to anybody for that matter?” 

“I-I um,” you stammer. Fuck. 

You consider lying. To deny deny deny. That’s how you got this far after all. The Circle always wanted the truth even if it killed. But the stakes are different now, even if it didn’t feel as such. You wasn’t about to ruin the integrity of Leliana’s words. She wasn’t wrong, after all. 

Alistair waits patiently, a curtesy you feel you don’t deserve, until you got your words in order. 

“Leli is right,” you begin. “My family lived- lives- in Denerim. I haven’t seen them since I was taken to the circle. It’s been years so I had a notion that maybe they’ve moved since then - Ma and Pa never liked the city, after all - but when we went to see your sister... I believe I saw my younger brother.” 

Alistair stares down at you in shock. You chuckle despite yourself. 

“What I felt exactly,” you say, mirth dying as you thought of those wide blue eyes looking up at you. “I didn’t know what to say, and he just... ran off.” 

“Avira, after encouraging me to see my sister, how could you not do the same?” Alistair protests. He pauses with a grimace. “Well, my experience wasn’t exactly pleasant to go through. Was your family, uh, well, terrible to you?” 

“No!” you deny, blinking and clearing your throat continuing on more quietly, “No, they loved me.” 

“Then why stay away my love?” 

“I can’t just appear into their lives like that!” You burst, words flowing out whether you wanted them to or not. “They’ve already closed that chapter of their lives with me in it and moved on. I can’t fault them for that even! I did the same just so I-“ your voice catches, “Just so I wouldn’t drown in the grief of being away from them. I know my parents missed me as much as I did them. But I can’t appear only to die again. I don’t want to hurt them anymore.” 

“Would it truly be so terrible to not see them again?” Alistair pushes. “You’re right, Avira, it would be painful if you saw them again only to perish. But I do not believe for a moment that they’ve moved on from you completely. You’re their daughter.” 

“But-“ 

“Anything can happen to you yes, but dying without seeing them one last time would be the greatest tragedy of it all. Especially when the chance presented itself.” 

“...It’s selfish,” you protest weakly. 

He laughs and squeezes you, “You’re saving the world, it’s okay to have one selfish request.” 

  


... 

  


“What do you mean there’s a plague?” 

“Ma’am please calm down-“ 

_“Just answer the damn question before I actually get pissed off.”_

This is a fucking disaster. You can’t help but to wonder why you didn’t see this coming but yet here you are about to lose your goddamn mind. 

“Whoa, Avira!” Alistair intervenes, most likely feeling your magic swell up in ire. “Let’s not kill the messenger, shall we? Come on we can discuss this elsewhere.” 

_Paint him red with blood. Let the world know your grief,_ Rage says in your ear, an ever present devil. 

There’s a quieter voice in the distance but creeping. Desperation clings to its cries and pierces your heart with its icy touch. _You’ve already given up on them. Why bother being concern now?_

Although your body is tense with barely restrained rage and grief, you allow yourself to be guided away. Alistair’s hand is a grounding presence in your back. 

A ways away from the alienage you go through the motions: inhale, hold, exhale. The anger and desperation is still there, but instead of it flowing outwards, it turns on you, badgering on your mind. 

Fire and ice tries to grip you tightly but another presence comes and helps push that all away. 

“In the face of adversary and impossible odds, I’ve never seen you back down, my friend,” Morrigan says as she approaches the two of you. 

“She’s right, Avira,” Alistair consoles. “There’s still a chance here.” 

“But what if I’m-?” 

“Too late?” Morrigan interrupts, “There will be instances in life in which that will happen, as cruel as that may sound.” She shoots Alistair a sharp look when he makes a motion to object to her choice of words, “But standing here and lamenting will most definitely make the clock tick against you. There’s still a chance to find your family. Take it.” 

The whispering stops. They’re right. When both of your dearest friends smile at you, you feel like yourself again. 

“Alright,” you say, “Let’s try another tactic.” 

...

So you break into the alienage. Alone, to the discomfort of the others. Wynne saw to you having enough poultice and potions to spare in case your family and others in the alienage were found needing. Oghren wandered over after you explained where you were leaving to. 

“Ah, so ya just had the jitters about seeing yer family, huh?” Oghren had said, scratching at his chin, “Understandable. I have somethin’ that would’ve made the process go down smoothly. Heh, funny since it burns like ants on a rash.” 

You snorted. 

Wynne sighed at this. “Never mind that. Seeing family after so long during such a tumultuous time would be stressful for anyone.” 

“Thank you for understanding, Wynne,” you said with a small smile, bumping her shoulder and getting an answering smile in return. You keep your eyes trained on the potions you were helping pour into smaller vials as you address Oghren. 

“Having the “jitters” would’ve been putting it too nicely. Quite frankly, I was being an emotional little bitch earlier but I’m going to see my family.” 

He guffawed. “It seems someone finally found their pair.” 

“Vulgar dwarf,” Wynne chastised, but said laughingly as well, “She’s found her hope again.” 

So here you are. Getting pass the guards using the Veil was easy enough, and once you were in, there was no use in hiding since you’re an elf yourself. Nonetheless, you wore a mask across your face. Its one thing if it’s dark spawn taint spreading to the masses, but it’s a regular sickness you didn’t want to risk anything inhibiting you as hardy as a warden you are. You also changed into simple clothing of pants and a laced up shirt adorned with a simple corset. 

The streets are somewhat unchanged for the most part. There’s more shacks filling the corners of the streets than you remembered. Even so, there are still elves lying on the streets with dirty clothes and tired bodies with some begging and with all being downtrodden. 

You didn’t bring much coin with you, but you give what you can. You quickly break into your poultice stash, saving only five out of many, to give to the sick. Word quickly spread of you, unsurprisingly, and others approach you. You do what you can, handing out vials and healing. When there’s a lull you tug at the Veil and disappear from sight to land in a back alley, slightly winded from the healing you’ve done for the past few hours. Twilight is now on the horizon. 

As you register where you are, your surroundings become familiar. Suddenly, you feel like a kid again. 

Back then, it took a while for you to open up to the city and its people but when you did, you admit you had fun with your neighbors. You and the other kids would play tag with one another or pretend that you were knights chasing after criminals. You followed the steps that you would take as a child and wondered where would you be if you didn’t get caught up in your childish imagination. If you didn’t start that fire. 

A house has long since been built over the charred remains, but the scorch marks on the ground remains still. You inhale and let that memory take ahold. 

You were scared stiff where as the other kids had long since ran away. It burned so hot that you felt your skin begin to blister from where you were several feet away. Your father found you and snatched you up and away. There was no one home and somehow the fire didn’t spread either, but it continued to burn blue until there was nothing left. A day later the templars came. 

You release your breath and let the memory go. 

The path to your home came back easily and you see a flickering light emanating from within the house as you near it. Your ears pick up the sound of voices, two in particular that are achingly familiar. You stop at the door and extend a shaking hand to it to knock. For a moment you doubt yourself. Was coming back an actual good idea? You should leave and leave them be. Be a ghost of their past that they won’t have to go through the pain of burying again when the time comes. But the words of your party come back to you and push you forward and above those thoughts. 

You knock on the door. 

The talking dies down for a moment and you hear someone call out, “Coming!” followed by the sound of tiny footsteps rushing towards the door.

“Laeli, don’t open that door! Let your father answer it-“ 

It creeks open and familiar blue eyes look up at you. 

“Mommy it’s you at the door!” Laeli, you presume, calls out as he points up at you. 

The door opens further as another figure appears. “What do you... mean...?” 

You and your father stare at one another. With jerky movements, you reach up and tug your mask down and he gasps. 

“Avira?” He asks unbelievingly, tears swelling in his eyes. “My girl, is that you?” 

“Hey Papa,” you respond thickly. “I’m home.” 

He rushes at you and wraps you in a hug. You feel weak as a torrent of emotions rush over you but you cling to him with everything in you. You feel a hand touch your hair and you look down. Your vision is blurred with tears, but the red hair is enough of a giveaway that it’s your mother looking up at you. 

“Mama,” is all you say before she bursts into tears and throws her arms around you as well. 

In the distance, you hear a raven cawing and you smile in answer. 

  


... 

  


You meet your little _sister._

“She takes after you, being a little tomboy,” your mother says laughingly. 

Her eyes crinkle with wrinkles that you don’t remember being there as a child. She grew her hair out from the last time you saw her, it being in multitudes of twists that snake down her back. From glancing at the twins who stare at you unabashed and unashamed, you see that they inherited her brown eyes but has your father’s blonde hair. 

“Nothing is wrong with that,” you chuckle, smiling down at her from her spot on your lap. If you were younger, or her older, the two of you would’ve been considered twins. The only difference was that she had several beauty marks adorning her face. 

You hope that’s all your little sister takes after, your brothers included. Luckily, your family was spared from the worst of the plague. Laeli came down with a fever initially but it wasn’t the taint and she recovered easily. They’re all here in one piece and you couldn’t ask for anymore. 

“So you became a warden, huh?” You father says, reclining back while crossing his arms. His face was weathered from the trips he would take, something that he said he gave up shortly after you were taken to the Circle, but kind as always. “Not too far away from becoming a knight.” 

You remain unfazed at his teasing but feel your ears grow red. “Knights were cool to me.” 

“Still is from the looks of it,” Ma remarks, looking at your sword you brought along. “I didn’t realize they would teach swordsmanship at the Circle.” 

“They don’t,” you tell her. “I picked it up on the road.” 

“You taught yourself how to use a sword?!” 

And suddenly you had a face full of twins. You smirk. The ice has been broken for them. 

“Could you teach me one day?” 

“Me first, called it!” 

“Hey no fair!” 

Edrick and Raakiel quickly lapsed into bickering until you cleared your throat and snapped your fingers, sparks bringing their attention back to you with wide eyes of wonder. 

“I can’t take all of the credit. My...” you glance at your parents almost shyly, “My boyfriend taught me all that I know. With some improvisation on my end as well.” 

“ _B-Boyfriend?_ ” Papa sputters. “Ophi, you hear this?” 

“Huh, would you look at that,” Mama murmurs, “I figured you’d bring a girl home.” 

You blush fully at this. “The chance was there, I will admit.” 

“The first thing you do once you get out of the Circle is to get a boyfriend?” Papa’s forehead wrinkles as he leans back to examine you. ”Am I to be expecting grandchildren already?” 

“What? No! And it wasn’t the first thing I did. Nor the second or third.” 

“Ymir! I’m sure she has other priorities at the moment,” Mama admonishes before a thoughtful look crossed her face, “Although when this whole warden business is taken care of, I’m sure that’ll be something nice to consider, wouldn’t it my dear?”

You hold your face trying to shrink away out of embarrassment. 

“Your sword is heavy-“ you hear suddenly from your little sister. 

“Laeli! Put that down!” 

“When did she get off my lap??” 

The house is chaotic but only in a way that family can make it. You fit right in as if you was always here and you can feel your heart settle with your only regret being not coming home sooner. You now have one more thing to look forward to when this Blight was over. Your home. 


End file.
